


by a moment in between

by soundsaboutright



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Injured Alec, M/M, Magnus without magic, right after season 3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-30 21:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17231429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundsaboutright/pseuds/soundsaboutright
Summary: Set a day or two after the finale of season 3a.Trying to process, before they can find ways to heal.A LOT of feelings, some easy, some not. Sorry?





	by a moment in between

 

_It’s been almost two days. They haven’t really talked yet, about anything other than what concerns the Institute's most immediate post crisis management or necessary medical procedures. With all this loss and all those shocks to their foundations, this time, they just don't seem to know where to even start.  
_

_Because where to start?_

* * *

The faint scent of antiseptics still lingers in the air, when Magnus closes the door behind him inside Alec’s room. The heating is turned up higher than usual and it’s dark, yet this is so much more preferable than the infirmary's sterile, all encompassing white only yesterday. Anything is, really.

Alec is speaking on the phone, subdued and practical tone of voice, and of course he is; time doesn’t stop for no one, least for the Head of the NY Institute. But he seems to be following the order of bedrest. And that tells Magnus a lot.

Magnus discards his blazer over a nearby chair and goes to sit next to Alec on the mattress.  He is acknowledged by a lift of brows, and although Alec keeps talking and listening on the phone, the fingers of his free hand curl into Magnus’ shirt right above his waist; playing with the fabric, opening and closing in a loose fist, tugging at the delicate material. The shiver it sends along Magnus’ side makes him look down in a smile, and when he still feels Alec’s eyes on him, he gives in.

Shoes are toed off wordlessly, and Magnus settles in on top of the covers. One arm propped up lightly, it brings his lips to Alec’s temple, and his other arm loosely across the center of him; inside that circle of contact, Alec exhales deeply into a speaking pause, the person on the other end of the line taking over the conversation.

Magnus closes his eyes.

Alec turns his face further to the side, into the press of Magnus’ mouth, and Magnus listens to him adjusting his grip on the phone to still be able to talk at all.

Magnus smiles and just breathes Alec in.

Sleep's not been a friend of Magnus' these last few days and he might finally be near the end of his reserves.

So, just for a moment, he allows his reality to be made up by nothing but the low rumble of Alec’s voice, vibrating along his own arm and chest, and the thick scent of hair, slept on and unwashed, that Magnus doesn’t really mind at all.

And he must drift shortly, because the next thing he knows, Alec isn’t speaking on the phone anymore, and there’s a warm, dry touch of lips just above his collar bone.

Magnus hums, and feels Alec’s fingers, slightly cooler than usual, pull down the collar of his shirt, just a bit onto his shoulder, and then Alec’s mouth is there.

On instinct, Magnus’ hand comes up to caress Alec’s jaw, which is at a mildly odd angle with Alec still on his back, shoulder trapped by Magnus’ form. But Alec keeps kissing every part of Magnus’ neck he can reach, and Magnus lets him, because his skin tingles faintly but pleasantly where Alec’s lips have been.  And Magnus really wants those tingles right now.

His name, softly spoken, makes his surroundings a little clearer.

“Magnus. Can I touch more of your skin?” Alec’s voice is low and syrupy, and Magnus’ mind is caught up in it, lingering in that sweetness for some slow seconds, but his body moves before he even answers. “Yeah. Yeah, of course you can.”

He strips off his shirt, a little dizzy, pins and needles in the arm he's rested on, while Alec shrugs out of the open zipped sweater he’s been wearing. Despite the room temperature Magnus shudders a little, and that might be why he reassumes his position next to Alec this time underneath the covers. Or it might be to feel a little less laid bare, somehow.

Once they're turned to each other on their sides, Alec’s hands are on Magnus' shoulders and Magnus finds he's strangely startled by how tentative Alec's touches are, fingers moving almost gingerly, so very, very careful. Like Magnus is the one injured; like Magnus' body must be just as tender and sore with hurt.

Magnus looks at Alec, wants to question, to protest, to tell him he's _fine_.

Before he can, though, his body finally does seem to wake fully, into the stretch of raw, intimate silence between them.  And he _feels_ the dull ache that must've been there all along, across every part of him, now that the masking numbness falls away.

He feels the wrongness that he refused to stop to name before now, skin fragile and not quite right, stretched too thin around hollow spaces, like missing a crucial layer of protection.

And it makes too much painful sense.

It makes Magnus' head spin. And there is Alec, and he is simply giving back Magnus' gaze, waiting for him to say or do something, to react, to figure it out maybe.

Magnus swallows. _Or just waiting for him_. _Hands gently roaming the lengths of Magnus' arms._

For a second Magnus wants to tell Alec to stop. Because it's too much. Too much sensation. Too much emotion.

But then his eyes fall down onto the scar in the center of Alec’s chest, raw-looking while Alec is still so pale against the sheets.

And he notices the tremble in Alec’s right arm again for what it is, the stiff bend of muscles, still weak after mending. Caressing Magnus.

His feelings rearrange.

He looks down, and he finds his own fingertips tracing around the freshly sealed wound, hot to the touch with circulation; with a body trying and healing itself.

An awe-filled, crooked smile he can't seem to help tugs at the corners of his lips; makes him bow his head and place a careful kiss above the welted skin, lips catching on shaved stubble and the sticky taste of some herbal ointment from bandages only recently shed.

Alec sighs softly beneath him, then, and the heat in Magnus' chest changes shape once again. It's muscle memory taking over, and a mind too tired to fight it. He lets his mouth move up, surer now, all along Alec's neck, rough and unshaven, addictive as it always, always is.

There's so much raw need in the both of them.

It's so very easy to get swept up in. Sighs become gasps, become hot little puffs of breath, and eager, uncoordinated hands pull Magnus on top. He has to balance his weight, to not lean too much of it onto the middle of Alec’s chest.

Their sweat comes fast, battered as their bodies are, clinging coolly to prickling skin, and Magnus feels a sting of unclean, but Alec tugs him closer still, before he can move back; kisses Magnus slow and deep.

And Magnus forgets, caring for nothing but the taste of Alec’s mouth.

Hands roam ceaselessly, and Magnus rolls his body against Alec’s to find him half hard underneath thin sweatpants. It’s a rush and roar in their ears, with all that’s happened, and Magnus suddenly feels frantic with the need to be closer still. By the grip of Alec’s fist in his hair he can tell it’s the same for Alec.

But what he can also tell is how the hand that is cupping his neck is subtly shaking. He can tell how Alec’s thundering heartbeat is maybe a little too fast, a little too unsteady. How Alec's breaths are a bit too short, lung tissue recovering from being punctured, iratzes only able to do so much.

Magnus pulls something wild inside back, stomach contracting, and kisses Alec with a little less urgency.

He knows Alec can feel him retreat, because he breaks their kiss and speaks against Magnus' lips, words cracking at the edges:

“Do you want to get the lube? You could… you know…” He hooks an ankle across Magnus' underneath the sheets,  bracketing Magnus' body between his knees.

A flush of red resolves into a prickle all along Magnus skin at the invitation, the deep yearning to be _inside._

He rests his forehead against Alec’s for a second, and closes his eyes. From the echoes of Alec’s voice in his mind, he is almost certain that Alec already knows the truth of what he’s going to say.

“I don’t think we should risk that kind of exertion, Alexander.”

Alec huffs out a breath and nods against him, humming reluctant agreement, but still holds Magnus’ face close, hands behind his ears, thumbs lining his jaw.

Neither of them is really prepped or prepared for anything like that tonight. It’s not just a snap of fingers anymore.

Alec presses his nose against Magnus’ cheek, and takes a heavy breath in. “It’s just… Magnus, I don’t think I can-” He stops and falters promptly over a yawn.

And Magnus can't help but smile. The bone deep fatigue is seeping through every point of contact between them, even if Magnus senses the honest willingness through Alec’s hold as well.

They're both in no shape to be taking things further tonight.

Magnus ruefully shakes his head inside the grip of Alec's hands.  “I’m sorry, Alexander, I should have known not to push...”

“No, I shouldn’t have started anything when I knew I probably wouldn't be able to follow through.”

“Alexander,”  Magnus moves back just far enough to seek out Alec’s eyes, making a point he’s sure Alec already knows, "You know it doesn't always have to lead to orgasms to be a worthwhile experien-”  Alec stops him short by pulling him in for a sealing kiss.

And something inside unwinds.

Magnus lets Alec chase his lips, then, languid swipes of mouths and deep kisses petering off in to gentle pecks.

They're both hanging by that moment in between what's past and what's to come, smiles and brushes of noses and nods against each other.

For a minute. Or two. Or maybe more.

Finally Magnus sinks down his weight beside Alec, resting his chin against Alec’s shoulder.

So he starts slightly, when only a hitch in Alec’s breath precedes the deep rumble of his voice, trying for an even lower pitch:

“Or, you know, you could let me get to my stele…” He lets it hang in air like an afterthought, abs contracting to keep the dry tone of the delivery.

And that’s what bursts out a laugh out of Magnus, albeit a wet one.

A laugh so abrupt, almost hurting his lungs, that his eyes are swimming with it.

It’s a surprise shock to his system, how the flutter reaches down deep into his belly. 

The _ridiculousness_ of the man in his arms, dead on his feet with fatique and still offering, even if half-jokingly, every last bit of him.

Magnus doesn't know how he even finds his voice, much less sound half in control about it:

"No, Alexander, there's gonna be no stamina rune for you today."

And for a fleeting moment, their words are allowed to carry a fluttery, fragile amusement and an almost-lightness they haven't felt in days.

"You sure?" _So cheeky._

"Yes, thank you, it's fine." _So tired._

"Ok. Just checking." _Magnus loves him._

"Okay." _So much._

Magnus' side stings with a breath he forgot to take, and he feels Alec’s chest beneath him softly shaking. And he just knows that hazel eyes are shining shy and grateful, with affection, mirth and that something altogether else.

Like a touch of sadness.

Strangely unmoored, as if laughing cracked something inside wide open, everything is suddenly a bit too close to the surface again.

Magnus presses his face against Alec’s shoulder, and it's all he can do to hold himself together somehow, to not float away and lose himself.

Alec must know, from the change of rhythm in Magnus' breathing.

Magnus can feel him thinking, weighing options.

They are silent for a minute.

Then Alec’s arms around Magnus tighten, a gentle resolution:

“Just like this then?”

His voice is rough, yet it still sends golden sparks of warmth along Magnus' skin.

And Magnus swallows, pulls himself even closer to Alec, burying the wet corners of his eyes against a warm chest.

“Yeah, just like this.”

_It’s been almost two days. They haven’t really talked yet, about anything other than what concerns the Institute's most immediate post crisis management or necessary medical procedures. With all this loss and all those shocks to their foundations, this time, they just don't seem to know where to even start.  
_

_Still. What they do know how to say is this:  
_

“I love you, Magnus.”

_And if Magnus takes a moment for his voice to catch,_

“I love you, too, Alexander.”

_then Alec’s fingers on his arm never cease to caress gentle, unhurried patterns into his skin all the same._

_Spelling out love, protection, and healing._

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Boy, this took turns on me while writing.  
> This is apparently what it wanted to be at last, I don't know.  
> They are young and they are old and they are wise and they are struggling and they are sleep deprived and they are everything  
> Thoughts?  
> I love you all, have a hopeful, splendid new year!  
> 


End file.
